EMERSON BROWN

Who are these witnesses for old
prophesies?
They have wrapped their minds
in the robes of the dead,
and planted their fear
in the hearts of the young.

In this vast cage
where the single torches
of lonely men do not merge
to light up the world,
where poor men pray for the rich
to appease jealous Gods,
where the mind opens a door
to a field of empty dreams,
where we buried the lessons of history
in this land of prefabricated shrines,
there's a White Idol -
for these men, who say

"Step down to the
height of your feet,
and remain there in prayer!"

Who are these men?

These hard hats in brown
shirts,
crowding the gateways of heaven?

They have bathed in a river
of acid rain
while waiting to dine with the Gods.